Found: A Prologue

         Loony Lucy was not her name. She knew this -and probably nothing else- without a doubt.
         She couldn’t quite remember what it was; it lay just below the murky surface of her memories, glittering teasingly beneath deep blue waters. Cradling her bleeding head she vainly tired to grab at it, but the pain made such an attempt even more dizzying than usual. With a moan she gave up and sprawled against the cold stone wall behind her, hidden carefully in the shadows. She’d almost had something, a memory maybe; perhaps it had been her name, before They had come. They always came, night after night, drowning her in darkness and confusion, pushing back her wounded mind and spirit, forcing her to swim in endlessly dark waters, searching for something. Perhaps it was herself.
         There was a sound near by, something soft and frightening. She jerked miserably, wet filthy hair, indiscriminant in color, slapping across her pale bloody face, eyes milky with pain and fear.
         It was a man, a drunken man, trying in vain to rise to his feet. She had not noticed him there during her desperate attempt to find a safe place, to hide from the light; they always found you in the light.
         Light.
         Sunlight.
         Sunlight, brisk ocean breeze, a man, not like this one, strong and beautiful, great hands open wide, tempting, offering, and begging. Behind him a great bronze tower, nearly blinding in the mid -day sun.
         The brief memory ended in a spasm of pain that left her gasping against the filthy street. Blood from her head stung at her steady gleaming eyes and she wearily brushed the warm gooey mess away. She pushed herself up with shaky arms, nearly black with muck. She could feel the stranger’s eyes and she shrank away, weary and exhausted. She would not try to remember any more, she just wanted to sleep. Yes sleep, sleep forever, warm and safe, no more pain, yes, and no more pain.
         “You…. Your, Looney Lucy.”
         The man said, his voice was not slurred, despite his obviously drunken state; his eyes were distant as she peered at him through the shadows, too tired to be afraid anymore. Or perhaps she had simply become resigned to her fate.
         He was staring at her eyes. They always gave her away, the pure blue, no iris.
         “Leave me please; it hurts to be around people.”
         People asked questions, questions promoted thought, thought led to pain. No more pain, sleep, yes sleep. Cold wet drops splattered against her cheek rinsing away a smudge of dirt and blood. It was soothing, a cool brush of comfort. The rain smelled of sweet damp earth, washing away the stench of the alley away for a brief moment.
         “You’re hurt; there is blood on your face.”
         He edged closer; his clothing was fine, silk and wool, strong and comfortable. And clean, most importantly clean.
         Rape. Her mind screamed. Not again, not after the last time, she had nearly died. Men enjoyed Loony Lucy the crazy Deldrid.
         Deldrid
         A city of lights, brilliant and silver, warm and quiet, another tower this one gilded of moonstone, tall and imminent above the ever glittering city. She feared that place, and what it meant, what it stood for.
         She returned to the sound of screaming. Her screaming, but there were arms, strong arms, and they held her against any even stronger chest. The pain had given her strength and she thrashed, tears of blood running down her face, but the arms were like iron bars and they held her tight. There was the smell of alcohol and rain, and leather.
         Her eyes opened and they met those of the man stranger, they were clear and brilliant, no hint of the drunkenness she had seen moments before. They were moving, through familiar darkened streets at an alarming pace.
         “I’ve found you…. Irisel.”